>”Anon, I really think you should go to the hospital. I don’t even need to open WebMD to know that’s not good.” >You ignore Oz, instead grabbing your first aid kit from one of the kitchen cabinets. As you sit down on the counter next to the sink, another wave of pain shakes through body. You growl and flick on the cold water. >”Anon, I’m serious.” She looks up at you with a lot of fear and worry in her eyes. “No. No hospitals.” >”But you’re losing blood everywhere and your stress levels are climbing…” “No. I can’t afford it.” >She frowns. “You’re a veteran; they give you some kind of insurance-“ “Not any the hospital here recognizes. No, Oz…I got this. Just grab me the clear mason jar from my night stand, would you?” >”You can’t drink this away, Anon.” After the ride back, she’s close to her old self. She’s really concerned about you, though. After all, you did face down a goddamn bear. “It’s not for drinking. It’s a painkiller and antiseptic. Please, Oz.” >You fill a solo cup with water as you remove the pair of ruined shirts from your upper torso. Oz sighs and goes to grab the jar as you asked. You hadn’t lied to Oz; the county general hospital didn’t accept the benefits associated with veterans which meant you were out of luck, which was fine with you. >How do you explain killing a bear outside of season at the edge of your property because it chased your friend which happens to be a unicorn that was your operating system for your iPhone? You’d either don’t or go to the nut house or something. >Fuck me that hurts. >You began running the cold water over your gashes to clean them. You hiss as the fresh water stings, clearing away shirt fibers and dirt from whatever the bear had been clawing at before you. You take this moment to check the wounds for anything else in them that shouldn’t be, like wood chips or a broken claw tip or just anything. You are surprisingly clean; this is a damn lucky day. >Oz returns and floats your mason jar to you. With a grunt of thanks, you open it up. The smell of moonshine burns your nostrils even as you look at it. Oz wrinkles her own nose. “What in the hell is that, Anon?” “Grade A Moonshine, Oz.” >You take a sip and wince. “Apple pie flavored.” >You take another sip and steel yourself. Without warning, you begin to dribble it over your wounds. OH SHIT THE PAIN. You roar in pain despite yourself as the alcohol beats the shit out of some germs. Sure, it wasn’t the best plan, but fuck it. >Hands shaking from the pain, you take another drink to calm your nerves and set the jar aside. Oz is watching all this with a face full of fear and dread. It’s clear she wants to ask more questions, but the look of determination on your face seems to quiet her. >After a moment, you repeat the process. This time you punch a cabinet from the pain. >Blinking back tears, you open the first aid kit and pull out a needle and some thread. You look at Oz. She doesn’t need to see this part. “Oz…go wash up.” >”Anon…I can’t. I want to make sure you’re okay…” >You give a grim smile. “I promise I’ll be fine, Oz. Just please…go clean up. I’ll brush your fur after you get out.” >”Promise?” “Cross my heart and hope to die.” >”Stick a cupcake in your eye?” She manages a weak smile. >You look at the needle currently in that hand. “…yeah. Stick a cupcake in my eye.” >You don’t do the gesture, though. You weren’t losing an eye too. Oz hops up and gives your cheek a quick kiss before heading off to the bathroom. She was a good pony, but she had seen enough bloodshed and pain for now. >You take one last sip of the ‘shine, and look at the three parallel cuts on your side. This was going to hurt…you bite down on your ball cap’s brim and brace yourself. ~~~~~~ >An hour later, you’ve successfully sewn your wounds shut. Looks like that time spent in the medic’s tents was well spent. >You wash away any leftover blood and place a large padding overtop the area. With a lot of effort, you wrap a lot of bandages around your chest to keep the padding in place; it was your first warning sign if you start to bleed again. You slide off the counter, shaking from the combined effects of the blood loss, adrenaline, alcohol, and pain. It’s all you can do to make it to the couch and sit down, the mason jar still in your hand. It’s only got a quarter of the good stuff left; you’d have to ask Clet if his cousin had made another batch yet. >With a groan, you sit back and prop your feet up on the coffee table. You take another sip as you pick up the Xbox controller. Thank God they put your other show on Netflix. You select the episode you want, and a familiar looking Kentucky boy walks into a hospital room, speaking to a man he put there. >Oz chooses this moment to re-appear. You had her messing around in the kitchen; you had assumed she was cleaning up your mess. She surprises you by holding a plate a couple sliced apples on it and a cup of water. >”You need to ingest something so you don’t pass out, Anon…and drink something to start replacing all the blood you lost. The moonshine is doing you no favors.” >She has a point. You reach for the apples and miss. Damn, you’re weaker then you thought. You growl and try again. This time you knock them on the floor. You swear and try to get up and pick them up. Oz shakes her head and gently pushes you back down. >”I got it, Anon. It’s the least I could do. You did save my life.” >Oz begins to pick up the slices and you sit back, fuming at yourself. As you do, the show’s theme song comes on. >”On this lonely road, trying to make it home / Doing it by my lonesome-pissed off, who wants some / I'm fighting for my soul, God get at your boy / You try to bogart--fall back, I go hard / On this lonely road, trying to make it home / Doing it by my lonesome-pissed off, who wants some / I see them long hard times to come…” >You never really identified with a TV show’s lyrics before, but goddamn that was accurate. >Oz finishes picking up the food and hops up to sit beside you. She levitates one piece to your mouth slowly. You eye the food and her before you open your mouth, accepting she’s going to have to feed you. The whole show she feeds you and gives you water. It’d actually be kind of a turn on except she’s doing it clinically. >You do feel better though with some food and water in you. You’re actually able to brush her mane gently. As the credits roll, she looks at you quietly before speaking up. >”Anon?” “…yep.” >”Why is this world so violent?” >You pause. That was not the question you expected. You give a small sigh. “What do you mean, Oz?” >”I mean this.” She points at your bandages. “I mean that ursine. I mean these shows you watch for entertainment. The games on your computer and Xbox. The news. Even you.” She lifts her leg to show you the cut from the fish hook. “I was cut by something at the rock that was not a rock. I looked it up later and it’s a hook designed to catch fish in a rather painful manner. I just don’t understand it.” >You’re silent as you ponder her statement. Finally, you decide on a course of action. “Oz…I ain’t a religious man. But I went to church enough to know the story of Cain and Abel, which basically describes the first murder and how the world is full of violence because it’s in our blood. Personally…I gave up on faith a while back. But that don’t change the fact the world we’re in is rough. Whatever you choose to believe as the reason, it don’t matter. What matters is how you deal with it.” >”And how do you, Anon?” She looks you in your eyes. “I believe that man, despite our flaws…can be decent. We don’t go all out, like the show you decided to look like.” >You brush her mane gently with a hand. “But not everyone can be decent. So you got to be ready for the good and the bad, whether that means keeping a 12-gauge behind your couch or recognizing that things won’t always go your way. Just look at nature. Even if you try to keep from violence, there’s still a spider hunting for flies nearby.” >Oz watches you for a moment, sizing you up as well as your answer. Finally, she sighs. “I have a feeling I will never understand you humans…especially you, Anon. You’re the stereotype of a redneck hick, but you act differently from that every chance you get.” >You shrug. “There’s no fun in making sense.” >Oz rolls her eyes and lies against you on your uninjured side. “…thank you, Anon.” “For what?” >”Being you. Saving me. Just…being a good friend.” >You chuckle and hold her close. “You’re welcome. Now do me a favor. Set an alarm for tomorrow morning.” >She blinks and looks at you with surprise. “Don’t tell me you plan on working-“ “Damn straight I do. If it makes you feel better, Jeb said as long as you don’t make a mess you’re welcome to come too.” >She seems caught between forcing you to stay and going with you to work. Finally she just kisses you. Before you could respond to it, she then hits you with her horn rather hard. You rub your arm and wince. “What was that for?” >”Being you. Alarm’s set. You had better sleep, too. Good night, Anon.” She curls up to you like a warm pillow. You chuckle and rest your head back. “Night Oz.”